Nathan Garrein, another survivor and cliath of the clan, hearing the ruckus outside turns his head and looked.
There was an undoubtedly small force assembled outside and they were getting ready to leave. Seeing the fear and intense urgency of their faces, he thought that something must be up, something big.
He was only 19 years old, too young to join to what was to come, but he was confident, he was confident that he can fend well within the harsh environment of the decrepit wasteland left by the outbreak whilst protecting his own companions. And he was not one to pass an opportunity to prove his worth to his fellow members.
Hurrying to get his arms, he stumbled as he groped his trusty HK UMP, his Desert Eagle and his trusty customized machete, the Amputator. He gathered them as he put on his armour, a flak jacket, for he was nimble in his feet, he was in an advantage because of his speed and bigger armour would only burden him. When he was finished, he took all the magazines he could get and went out.
He was amazed, almost all of members of the assembled team were his superiors whom he rarely sees, and surely, this event was big indeed.
They eyed him as he walked towards them, as if they were disgusted by his gear. He approached them while cocking in a magazine in his UMP.
"Need another hand?" he said blankly “What’s the mission? I was just passing by and kinda saw what was going on, so permission to tag along sir, I’m locked and loaded.”
He looked at the commanding officer in front of him as the commander winced in the idea of repeating the orders, he had no choice he needs more men.
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